I’ve always liked those awards/memes that circulate the blogosphere. This one I particularly like because it’s always fun to see what other people are working on. But I guess I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. Julie over at Word Flows has tagged me in the Lucky 7 meme.
For those who haven’t heard of it before, here are the rules:
1.) Go to page 77 of your current manuscript/work in progress.
2.) Go to line 7.
3.) Copy down and post the next 7 lines, sentences, or paragraphs.
4.) Tag 7 other writers.
The following excerpt is from Degeneration, the novel I just finished. I’m changing the rules a little, though. I thought about starting on page 77. Really, I did. I even had a lovely chunk that started at line 7 and showed the main character in a moment of strength. And then I realized that I would be posting the start of the climax, the part that gave away the secret that everyone’s trying to ignore, and that’s not something I want to do. So, instead, I’m starting on page 7.
“No one’s saying our families are perfect,” said Lily. “We’re just saying that we love them despite their imperfections.”
“Well, my family’s not like that,” I said.
“That’s cold,” said Justin, shaking his head and looking as though I had just told him that I murder puppies in my spare time.
“What the hell do you know about cold?” I mumbled to myself, turning and storming over to the supply closet. I slammed the door shut behind me and then leaned against the wall, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.
“Can you believe that?” I heard Justin ask quietly.
“I know,” said Lily. “It makes me want to go call my grandma right now.”
I pushed myself off the wall and walked over to the supply cupboards. How dare they judge me? It wasn’t like I had asked to have a family who didn’t care about me. It’s not like they were nice and supportive and loving and kind and I had pushed them away and said, “No, please, I don’t need love and support, thank you. I think I’m good on my own.” No, all I had ever asked of my family was that they listen to what I have to say and try to protect me from harm. I hadn’t thought that was too much to ask. It wasn’t as though I expected them to be perfect. I just wanted them to try. I wanted to feel like I mattered to them. But I didn’t matter, and it was no use pretending that I did. I knew that I had done nothing wrong. I knew it was their fault that we didn’t speak, that we hadn’t seen each other in years.
So why did I suddenly feel like I was the bad guy?
Okay, so that’s 8 paragraphs, not 7, but that last sentence ended the chapter, so I figured it was worth adding.
And now onto the people who I am tagging in this post. I know I’m supposed to do 7, but I’ve decided just to list 5 people who either a) I know won Camp NaNo and thus probably have at least 77 pages written or b) I believe might have a current WIP that long.